


Heartmarked

by Sylph_of_Life (Witch_of_Shadows), TerminallyCancer



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, But he's still a jerk, Dwarves, Dwobbits, F/M, Fix-It, Gandalf is a Troll, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Thranduil is misunderstood, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_of_Shadows/pseuds/Sylph_of_Life, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallyCancer/pseuds/TerminallyCancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legends say that Earth was the second born world the Valar created. It was an attempt at fixing the mistakes they made on Arda. The Chosen were part of that process. Most only had one thing in common, the Heartmarks. Intricate and quite personal designs that the Chosen bore as proudly as they could. Sometimes it was difficult, the fear they caused by being different; by being something other than human. For most of the Chosen were not human, but something else.  They were born to human parents, but their race a match to the person whose name the Chosen bore in their Heartmarks. Soulmates. The other half of their lost and searching soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartmarked

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like the new story I'm writing. It was an idea that just wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you fall in love with our OCs just like I did! My co-author told me not to publish this yet, but the dwarves made me. Constructive Criticism is always appreciated!

Prologue: The Last Night on Earth

The fire burned brightly, sending sparks into the air like little beacons of light. It was a welcoming sight to most in the small boarding school, but to a small select group of people, the fire signified not only their graduation night but also a new chapter in their lives. To some, it might seem silly that the thought would send chills down a person's spine, but not these select few children. They had been raised and taught knowing that this was their eventual fate. To sit 'round the midsummer night's fire and wait for the time where they'd be whisked away from their friends and sometimes families, should those who gave birth to them still care. 

No one quite knew when and where the select few ended up; the legends were vague on that point. Legends say that Earth was the second born world the Valar created. It was an attempt at fixing the mistakes they made on Arda. The Chosen were part of that process. Most only had one thing in common, the Heartmarks. Intricate and quite personal designs that the Chosen bore as proudly as they could. Sometimes it was difficult, the fear they caused by being different; by being something other than human. For most of the Chosen were not human, but something else. They were born to human parents, but their race a match to the person whose name the Chosen bore in their Heartmarks. Soulmates. The other half of their lost and searching soul. 

Because that's what they were, lost and broken, born into a world where the majority would never understand them. The human's of the world bore their own soulmarks. Ones baring little to no resemblance to the intricacies of the Chosen's. A simple name on the wrist told them who their soulmates were. Sometimes, Iris, Sigmund, and Delilah wished their own marks were as simple to decipher. 

The three were a motley crew of friends, each so different they complemented each other. One, a girl named Delilah, was the tallest person in the class. She towered over everyone she met at her modest 7' 2". She was something unprecedented, a shape shifter that turned into a bear. One that the likes of which hadn't been seen in years and years. Her Heartmark was modest, all sharp lines and gentle curves. The design of the paw print cradled her marked's name, not that she would know. After all, she had been blind since birth. Despite this, the young woman never let her blindness get her down. She used her other senses to her advantage, her smell and hearing enhanced past what a human was capable of. It had came in handy when she had lived with her family. Delilah had been born in a circus and trained as an animal trainer, and while her parents loved her and supported her, unlike some of the Chosen's families, they had sent her to the school as an attempt to prepare her for what she would face in the future on Arda.

The second girl, Iris, was an elf, as graceful and talented as one could wish in the fairest race. But she hated the attention her looks brought and sought to keep herself an individual. Over the years, the effort it took for her to be contrary to the expectations of her race, had lead her to find a deep connection with the earth and a love for rocks and gemstones. Her collection was vast, ranging from simple pretty stones she found on the grounds of the school, to precious gemstones she had bought and bartered. She was extremely proud of her stones, carrying her favorites with her everywhere she went. Her mark was an intricate combinations of ivy leaves and gemstones that covered her entire arm. Sadly, she couldn't read her name. The material on the Sindarin alphabet was sadly lacking and she had never learned to read the language despite learning to speak a good bit of it by self teaching. 

The third and final was a bit of an anomaly. A young man by the name of Sigmund, bore not one, but two names on his back. Nonetheless, he was proud of his Heartmark and longed for the day he would meet the two who made him so unique. Because that's what Sigmund was, unique. Some of the more cruel people he had encountered had called him many things, most of them degrading, but out of all the things Sigmund had been called, the only thing that stuck was the name Iris had penned just for him. Dwobbit. Half dwarf and Half Hobbit. And he couldn't be anymore prouder of that fact if he tried. He tried his hardest to keep to all of the traditions both cultures found important. Keeping his hair long and growing out what little beard he could (just a small goatee on his chin). He kept his feet bare, their small size not making them any less tough than any other hobbit's. He had forged a love for all things green and growing just like any proper hobbit, but also found a talent in Jewelry making and seemed to be able to pull metal from the ground with no hint to it ever being present. 

The three friends sat around the warm fire, a comfortable silence between them as each kept to their own thoughts. The youngest children ran around, gathering flowers and braiding them into crowns that they sat upon each of this years chosen's heads. Ziggy let a hand raise to rest on his and shattered the silence with a muffled sob. He hadn't meant to break down in tears, but he felt as if he were to burst. His feelings warred inside him. He started when Iris pulled the much smaller boy onto her lap and began braiding his hair into an intricate pattern. She clucked her tongue, his golden red curls giving her as much trouble as usual. He relaxed against her, taking note of Delilah's tense figure as she sat, clenching and relaxing her fingers. He leaned forward and took her hand into both of his, unable to thread their fingers together like he wished he could. 

"We'll be fine," Iris whispered, ignoring the stares and comments directed towards their small group. All but the little children seemed happy to be rid of what they deemed the undesirables. And yet, Iris knew in her heart that there was nothing wrong with them. They had a purpose. An important one in Arda, otherwise the Valar wouldn't have taken the time to split their souls in two. 

Delilah was one of those who were seeped in reluctance. She glared at the fire with blank eyes, her mind taken over by defiance and a will most didn't possess. She knew she had no choice in leaving Earth to travel to Arda, but she would be damned if it took all of her free will away from her. The young dark haired girl grinned, the expression merging fluidly with a grimace bordering on a snarl. She wouldn't fall over and beg for her Marked's love. He'd have to earn it. She wasn't going to make it easy for him. Perhaps the Romani girl was bitter, unable to find joy in what had ripped her away from her family and life. But, no matter the cause, she still found some happiness in the form of her two friends. And now, in the face of the newest chapter of their short lives, she found herself about to lose them as well. This did not bode well with Delilah and she vowed to keep away from her soulmate as long as she possibly could. 

Sigmund, affectionately nicknamed Ziggy by Iris and Delilah, was the only male in their merry group of outcasts and the youngest by a few months. His unique situation lent him no end to the torment he received from the narrow minded and bigoted humans that surrounded him. Including his own parents, who abandoned him on the streets when he was but a very tiny babe. He hated to admit it, but he would leave his plane without a second thought to the people he was leaving behind. There was nothing left for him there and the only hope he clung to was the possibility that he'd finally find the place where he belonged with his Marked. The small boy, much smaller than even some of the rare and few hobbits he had met, stared up at the starry sky with eyes full of happiness and sadness warring together. The only thing that could make this night even better would be going on his future adventure with Iris and Delilah by his side. 

Iris resented the change to come, same as Delilah, but despite her growing animosity against her fate, she couldn't bring herself to do what Delilah had done and would do. She didn't have it in her to avoid her soulmate. Nor to use her own body as a mean for revenge against someone she hadn't even met. She didn't begrudge Delilah's hedonistic tendencies, despite the stigma against it. She stood firmly by her friend's side, helping the girl do her hair and makeup for Delilah's 'dates'. She snarled and fought against anyone who looked down on either of her friends, even if some of the things they were saying had foundations in truth. 

No Iris wouldn't avoid her mate, but she had every intention of making him work for her affections. She wouldn't make it easy on them. Now, all she had to do was to translate the runes on her shoulder. Oh, how many times she had wished they were able to read the names, but there was a striking lack of knowledge on Ardaian runes of all types. 

The three sat together, each in their own thoughts as the time ticked down. Slow for some, fast for the others. They stayed that way deep unto the night, clutching each other's hands until the fire blew out, and their world grew suddenly dark.


End file.
